


On the Logistics of Shared Closet Space

by Lestradesexwife



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 04:10:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14204751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/pseuds/Lestradesexwife
Summary: Takes place after “infinite coffee and protection detail” and after Civil War, Bucky would clearly not sign the Accords so the plot could basically go exactly the same way… and because I love Phil Coulson I’ve decided he would be around to smooth things over. BUT I digress, this is supposed to be a naughty story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlet/gifts).
  * Inspired by [This, You Protect](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1752638) by [owlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlet/pseuds/owlet). 



Flying Sam said that recovery is not a straight line. Flying Sam also said that relationships have a “Honeymoon Phase” where everything is new and wonderful and sunshine smiles. That pretty much ended with Rogers under a life sucking plant, at least the “staying home where it is safe and having lots of orgasms” phase of the Honeymoon Phase. 

“Where does Hydra even find these mooks?”

Barnes inhales and squeezes the trigger on his sniper rifle gently. The Hydra stooge at the end of his sight line collapses twitching. He reloads and scans the area he’s covering for any more idiots with a death wish.

DENY

Confirm. These ICE bullets Coulson and his team have been working on have improved his good-guy non-lethal score significantly. Even if the slight blue glow of the projectiles makes the tiny part of him that used to be the Asset twitchy.

Barton answers him via his earwig. “There’s no shortage of stupid in the world.” The whisper of a blue arrow goes past, and Barnes sees a twitching boot appear around a corner from his vantage point.

“You’d think, in this day and age… with the track record and all… You’d think that the paycheck wouldn’t be enough? Like once this starts, you couldn’t pay me enough to get shot at by Iron Man.” Barton's resting bitch voice makes Barnes' lips twitch.

Barnes can see Barton, standing in the open with his bow drawn, black silhouette against a white blue spring sky. He’d make a pretty good target if these mooks had two brain cells between them.

It has been years though so the quality of Hydra’s operatives had steadily declined. Tony and Steve had been picking off the best ones. Barnes hits another one with an ICE bullet, running out the door into an obvious kill box, he deserved it. 

Confirm.

“Target secure.” Natasha’s voice is soothing in his ear. No one has even broken a sweat on this op, it’s good to have a routine and a half decent plan. Barnes doesn’t take his eye off his scope. 

“We got it Buck, coming out now.” Rogers’ ridiculously bright shield is visible before he is through the scope and the doorway to the factory. 

“Didn’t Iron Man shoot at us a couple times?” Barnes shifts his body slightly, pulling himself closer to the edge of the building to sweep Rogers’ exit route.

“That was different, I wasn’t getting paid.” Barton sounds smug about it.

Barnes declines to comment.

Local law enforcement has been waiting in the wings, Carter’s niece is noticeable, sensibly in the midst of the of the wave of officers that flows in once the coast is clear but directing the flow of the clean up efforts. The obnoxious CIA man and his Wakandan counterpart follow in her wake. Barnes centers his scope in the centre of the CIA dorks back. The Asset rolls over, warming to the idea of an “accidental misfire” the ICE bullet would only temporarily disable the man after all.

 _Ross isn’t all bad._

Deny.

Hard deny but nice try briefing. He put us in a cage.

_Steve would not approve._

Ugh. Confirm.

Barnes raises the rifle and begins stripping it down to return to its case. He can hear Steve over the coms, speaking with Carter Jr. It is comforting to hear Steve’s voice in his head, even if he can also hear Ross.

Nothing explodes as they mop up the operation, Barnes tides up and polices his casings. Uses the fire escape to descend to ground level and join up with Barton and flying Sam. 

“Well that was a complete waste of time.” flying Sam is twitchy, none of the mooks got enough of a head start to need to be chased down. “I really wanted to try these new wings.”

“They can’t all be world ending.” Barton is frowning down at the tip of one of his arrows. 

Thank Marx.  
Confirm.

Steve and Carter Jr. are still talking about the target, how best to secure it for transport and where it should be stored until it can be moved. Barnes stows his gear on the quinjet and settles in to wait. 

_Passive observation approved_

Flying Sam is watching him with a big dumb grin on his face.

“What is there something in my hair?”

“I’m proud of you. Not so long ago you’d be out there glowering at everyone, including Steve.”

“I can still hear him. And if he can’t handle these, there’s nothing more I can do for him.”

“Yeah man, I’m still proud.”

Fun fact: Quinjets are acceptable means of transportation if and only if Maria Hill or Rogers are flying.

Barnes reaches behind him and grabs one of his novels down the mesh behind his head. He flips through until he finds his dog-eared page and resumes reading.

The journey back to New York takes most of the night, thankfully Maria is flying so Barnes allows himself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for sexy times(?) (sorta) and EMOTIONS

The restraints are ridiculous. Pink and plastic and clearly not actually doing anything to restrain Steve. Which is why they chose them. 

Barnes’ brain has enough trouble accepting that Steve is kinky as all get out. Between the apple pie and flag waving version of Captain America and the skinny kid the briefing remembers and shows him is not someone who should want handcuffs and chains. 

Anything that would actually hold Steve down makes Barnes get up and leave the room.

Apparently there is a market for something building Jarvis refers to as “light bondage” because there exists in the world pink plastic handcuffs, with fur or without, that also have “safety releases” buttons on the side that open the cuff without the need for a key.

There is a crate of them in the bottom of Steve’s closet. Because they also snap like kindling if Steve flexes his wrist. 

There is also a piece of white plastic chain attached to the head of Steve’s bed, just below the line of the pillows. 

Sometimes that’s fine. And sometimes the idea of sleeping in a bed that could even potentially restrain him makes Barnes non-verbal. With shrieking static in his brain.

So they maintain both bedrooms. Which makes the pre-war frugal side of both of them somewhat twitchy. The orgasms more than make up for it though.   
It also makes for interesting storage arrangements. Not like Barnes wasn’t above stealing Steve’s clothing _before_ the orgasms. But now there is a sort of natural ebb and flow between the two closets. With laundry being put away in both rooms fairly indiscriminately. 

But that also means. “Have you seen my green shirt?”

Barnes turns from the closet in his room. He’s not really expecting to see anything on the monitor, so his eyes skip over it on the way to the door, but then movement on the monitor draws his eyes back. 

Steve puts the green shirt down on the bed next to him. Barnes isn’t sure that helicoptering it above Steve’s head will be bad for the fabric, maybe it will be a little stretched out but otherwise fine. But there’s something in the way that Steve is sitting on the edge of the bed that suggests trouble.

“What were you thinking about?” Steve’s voice is far away on the monitor. Conversational if they were in the same room but almost too quiet to hear with all the technology in the way.

WHAT?

Same friend, same. “My green shirt, and its whereabouts?”

“Not now, before. When you covered up the monitor.”

Mission can curse in several languages. None of them are helpful. His heart rate is elevated, and there’s a cold trickle of sweat building on the back of his neck.

“I was afraid you’d see, that you’d wake up and see me and that would be the end.” Why is he still talking? There really ought to be a way to run, or at least crawl out of his skin to avoid having this conversation over the monitors. 

Mission briefing provides him with an image of a young girl, trying to hold perfectly still so the velociraptors won’t chase her. If she moves it will see her. Maybe if he holds perfectly still he will blend into the background and this will be over.

Steve isn’t even looking at him, he’s covered his face with his hands, mussed up his hair and is pulling at his own neck.

Which isn’t fair because that’s the adorable thing Steve does when he’s being an idiot and has only just figured it out.

“I’m an idiot.”

Yeah pal we know. But Barnes is still practicing holding perfectly still. Waiting out the velociraptor on the other end of the monitor.

“I meant. What were you thinking about, when you touched yourself.” And Rogers is blushing again, the sort of blush that does go all the way down. The apple pie side of him showing.

Briefing hands him the image of Steve bringing him coffee in the shower. And the two men in the alley. Which isn’t helpful because we know that already. And you can’t really expect us to tell him that. We are definitely holding perfectly still and hoping this goes away. 

“Geez Buck. I’m sorry. I just thought if I knew what you like. I’ve got this whole plan but I don’t know if you want any of it. I know you can say no, but… what do you want to say yes to?” He’s leaning forward, elbows on knees and eyes locked on the monitor in his room. 

Barnes is definitely not moving still but briefing and mission are ganging up on him. _Optimal mission compliance_ and images of Steve touching him, holding him close, pressing his lips against that spot on Barnes’ ear.

“You remember when you said, we were kids on the roof? Morning sun and orange juice, stretching. And then coffee in the shower, and your hands and touching. Things we’d seen before, other people together and the way they look at each other. We just wanted you to look at us like that.”

GUH.

When Barnes can look at the monitor again Steve is still staring but his face is softer now. No wrinkle in the middle of his brow. 

“You… I brought you coffee in the tub. Because you’d been.” Steve chokes on a groan. “I was so close to you, I could have.” Steve collapses back on to the bed, with his legs splayed out and even with the technology in the way Barnes can see Steve is hard in his pajama pants.

Sub-mission: invent time machine so we can go back and get a handjob from Steve in the tub on that first day.

Confirmed.

“I was. It wouldn’t have worked. Too afraid.”

Also Confirmed because brains are fun that way.

“Oh god, Bucky I know.”

Steve lifts himself up on his elbows. “I was really. I was afraid I was losing you. That day. Before we talked, I didn’t know what was wrong or how to fix it and I was terrified.”

Says Rogers, splayed out on a bed that they share with an erection. Barnes is considering climbing through the monitor. Briefing seems to think it would be more fun to tease.

“I came four times, just thinking about you touching me. I woke up and saw you sleeping and wanted you so badly I nearly broke my wrist.”

And there is the blush back again, and the reorganization of blood flow. “Oh. _Bucky._ God.”

“The briefing had this file, from the war, just a piece on a loop. Being on patrol, but we must’a been on leave because there were walls. These two guys in a corner, hiding, touching and kissing to cover up the sounds. But they were so focused on each other, their foreheads were touching, and they were leaning into it.”

Barnes stops talking, because Steve’s hand has collapsed onto his chest, and his hips have given a little roll.

Bucky can see the rise and fall of Steve’s chest, so he knows that the feed is still life but otherwise Steve has gone quiet, and without eye contact Barnes decides to try to fade into the background again.

“I wish I had woken up. I wish I’d heard you and pretended to be asleep. I feel terrible about it, but _now_ the idea of watching you is… god Buck. I wish I’d, I mean, no because we hadn’t talked about it. And then I had my “gay panic” moment.” Rogers lifts his hands off his chest and actually makes air quotes.

 _Wasn’t anything hypothetical about it buddy, I said I wanted to touch you and you actually ran away… on a treadmill but still._ Barnes isn’t going to talk. Holding perfectly still until Steve figures out what he’s trying to get at is the only possible course of action. 

Steve heaves a sigh and props himself up on his elbows. 

Forlorn. Steve is forlorn. 

Unacceptable.

Confirmed.

Suddenly Barnes is calm, like he’s been floating in a tub of hot water for the last 20 minutes instead of staring into the monitor watching Steve. 

“Do you remember talking to me when I wasn’t there?” Maybe they’ve both cracked but now he has an idea. “Even before you knew I was listening you talked to me but you never…”

“I started to, once or twice. But all I could think about was finding you. And if I tried to think about Peggy, about before, during the war. But she mourned for me, I’d died. And then my brain would start wondering if you were okay, where you were. I thought you were sleeping rough, cold and alone and I couldn’t find you.”

“I found you.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“And you still let me watch you.” Mission and briefing take bets on how long with will take Rogers to take the hint.

Steve’s jaw falls open, and he’s clearly working on trying to answer Barnes. Stark would say something mean about smelling something burning but Steve definitely has an “I didn’t expect that and am now rebooting” face. He stands up and walks out of frame, and for an instant Barnes considers running. To or from he hasn’t decided yet.

There’s a noise out of frame, and then Steve crosses the field of view of the monitor, pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it away. Somehow managing to pause and stretch right at the edge of the frame so that Barnes gets a close up of Steve’s biceps and the definition in his shoulders while he moves.

“I had the weirdest dream last night Bucky. We were back in Brooklyn, on that roof that we used to sleep on in the summers. You remember when it got so hot that even at night our rooms were like a furnace. Only I was wearing the tights from the spangle tour.” Steve turns and shucks himself out of his sweatpants and underwear, facing away from the camera so Bucky gets a good look at his ass before he straightens up and tosses the clothing away. “Do you remember when you asked me if I was keeping the outfit? Your hair was long, in my dream, and you had. You were wearing clothes that looked like from the war. But in the moonlight I could see your hand was metal. Like now.”

Steve sits on the side of the bed and puts his hands over his face. “It was so weird because it was like we never left, but it was us, now with all the years and… but we were just sleeping on the roof. I should have told you back then. It would've worked. We’d’a figured it out.” Steve reaches over and pulls the pillows up, bracing them against the headboard so he can sit up against it.

Barnes is doing some of the breathing exercises that Natasha taught him, because all three parts of him want to move, to cross the distance between their rooms and climb Steve like a tree.

“I wanted to tell you back then, but I didn’t. My dream though we were on the roof and you were telling me a story about something Dum-Dum had done during the war. You laughed and rolled over and kissed me, like we’d done it a thousand times. You wrapped your arms around me and pulled me down on top of you. We were kissing and touching everywhere and it felt so good. _Geez, Buck._ I woke up and I was so hard. I nearly smothered myself biting on my pillow to stop from screaming your name.”

Steve’s hand has been working himself slowly while he’s been talking. And Barnes has to admit that there is something delicious about watching Steve tease himself. Barnes could watch Steve’s hand for hours. Even though his legs are shaking from the effort involved in standing still this long, and the plates in his arm are re-calibrating because if he can’t move to join Steve he definitely wants to join Steve. He makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat because he _wants_ to touch himself but he’s afraid if he moves Steve will see. If Steve sees he’ll pay attention and this is not about getting Steve’s attention this is about _watching._

“Even back then everyone always thought.” Steve stops talking for a second and shoves two of his fingers from his right hand into his mouth, pushing them all the way in and sucking to make them wet. “I like the idea of you being rough on me. I always did, even when I was scrawny, especially when I was scrawny. I’d think about you holding me down and doing things to me, but it was always fine because I trust you.” He’s trailed his fingers down his neck and pinched his nipple between his two slick fingers. 

Steve’s hips jerk and his hand speeds up as he plucks at his nipple. “You could fuck me, fuck my mouth until I learned not to choke anymore, fuck my ass until I begged for you to let me come.” Steve groans and arches, pushing up into his hand. “Or you could kiss me, gentle and slow, make love to me all night long. On the roof in the moonlight.”

“God Bucky, you don’t need to be alone. You never needed to be alone. I… we could have…” He stops talking. Stops stroking himself. “It’s wrong of me to want you so badly, to need you with me, but I can’t help it.”

Barnes should say something, point out that the premise behind Steve’s behaviour is that Barnes was stalking him, was right across the street and is currently across the apartment. That he has proved that he needed Steve as badly as Steve needed him. He swallows, trying to work up to speaking again.

“We could, we could just retire. Move out to the country. Get a dog… or a cat if you wanted. I could paint again. You could read on the porch, or open a bookstore and coffee shop.” Steve is grinning now, but looking over at the empty bed beside him. “You could make all your own baked goods.”

Barnes can almost picture it. A little house with a covered porch, plenty of room for Steve to have his own studio. A cat in a puddle of light, and maybe a dog as well. Something fast that would keep Steve company on his morning jogs around the neighbourhood.

“We could get married.”

Did he just?

Wait. What?

Steve isn’t looking at the monitor. He’s frozen, naked and blushing. But he had definitely spoken the words. Barnes is sure he couldn’t have hallucinated that.

Steve huffs out some air; splays his hand over an empty section of bed, where Barnes should be. “We’d probably have to elope. Just tell the Olds, and Sam and Natasha. Otherwise Tony might try to throw some sort of extravaganza. We could go on a real vacation for our honeymoon, somewhere with miles of beaches.”

Barnes wants to pass out. Wants to sit down hard on the floor and put his head between his knees until this makes sense. 

“I’m sorry Bucky, I didn’t mean to unload everything on you. I know that you… even though you aren’t here, I know that you can hear me. I needed to tell you, that I love you. You mean the world to me, I can’t imagine my life if you couldn’t hear me, couldn’t see me. And just this is perfect, I’m with you till the end of the line no matter what. But if you wanted… if you would do me the honour of marrying me. I think I’d be the happiest man to ever live.”

Barnes can move pretty fast when he wants to, but not quite as fast as the speed of light. So there’s a delay between when he moves out of the view of the monitor in his room and when he appears in Steve’s doorway. He pauses there for a breath, to inhale before he launches himself at Steve, before he forgets how to breathe because kissing Steve is more important than anything else in the world.

It is electric, being pressed up against Steve. Rolling and kissing and touching every part of him, somehow it manages to feel like the first time all over again and still wholly familiar and comfortable and safe. Eventually they end up slowing down, with Steve spread out over Barnes like a starfish. Steve moves to kiss that spot behind Barnes’ ear, sending sparks along his nerve endings and making him regret not getting naked before he was pinned down. 

“Is that a ‘confirm’ then?” Steve whispers it, hiding his face in the crook of Barnes’ neck. His heart suddenly thudding in his chest. Rabbit quick and terrified because he’s an idiot.

Barnes squeezes the back of Steve’s neck, turns them both slightly so that his lips are against Steve’s ear. He doesn’t even have to check with the others, they’ve been in agreement since they pulled Steve out of the river, at least on this.

“Confirm.”


End file.
